Kovert Krampus
by anacsadder
Summary: Bakura usually hates Christmas specials, but this year an unlikely partnership promises to break up the monotony. Based on the Abridged Series.
1. Chapter 1

Ryou sat on the sofa with his bunny-slippered feet folded under him and a video game controller in his hands. The tip of a pink tongue poked between the pale lips as he pounded away on the buttons. Marik wandered out of the kitchen with a steaming cup of coffee and sank onto the couch next to him.

"Did you get your shopping done yet?" Marik asked.

"Shopping for-" Ryou paused as another zombie head disappeared in a fine mist. "What?"

Marik sighed. "The secret Santa shopping. Did you do it?"

Bakura looked up from his laptop. "Bloody hell, is it time for the Christmas special again?"

"Fuck, I hate Christmas specials," a lump of blankets in the armchair said in Melvin's voice. "At least the ones that don't end with Joseph shooting Slenderman with a shotgun."

Ryou blinked. "Huh? Oh... no..." He killed a few more zombies. "I'm not... going... to the party..."

"That's an option?" Bakura blinked. "Marik never told me that was an option!"

"But presents, Ryou! And shiny lights!" Marik waved his hands in the air.

"Ugh." Ryou rolled his eyes and paused his game. "I get the same gift every year. I don't need a fourth electric teapot."

"But I had a very specific scheme and your participation is integral!" Marik protested.

"I'm not going to help you get the pharaoh sloshed so you can take videos and post them on youtube," Ryou said. "Get Bakura to spike the egg nog."

"They pat me and Bakura down at the door because of what happened at the second party," Marik whined. "They'd never suspect you."

"Get Melvin to spike the egg nog, then," Ryou said. "No one would dare to pat him down."

"Unless I'm spiking it with cyanide, I'm not going either," the blankets said. "Even then, fucking 4Kids would probably just fucking censor it."

"What about the fangirls?" Marik asked Ryou. "Think how disappointed they would be if you skipped out on the Christmas special."

"The fangirls want to see you and Bakura make-out under the misltoe. No one would notice if I wasn't there," Ryou said.

"What are you going to do instead?" Marik asked. "Sit on the couch playing video games?"

"I'm going to see Krampus," Ryou said.

"What's a Krampus?" Marik asked.

"It's that new Christmas horror film," Ryou said.

"There are Christmas horror movies?" An eye appeared through a hole in the pile of blankets.

"Oh, yes, quite a few," Ryou said. "Krampus is loosely based on a real, old European tradition, though. He was basically a demon that punished bad children for Saint Nicholas."

A spiky blond head appeared. "How?"

"Beating them with sticks, giving them coal instead of presents, wrapping them in chains and dragging them back to Hell with him..." Ryou rattled off the list as though trying to remember what he needed from the grocery store.

"Coal doesn't sound like much of a punishment," Bakura said.

"Don't look at me, I didn't make up the stories," Ryou shrugged. "Besides, I don't think the film is too concerned with being historically accurate."

Melvin frowned as he considered this. "It still sounds less lame than Kaiba's secret Santa party."

"I might be able to get another ticket if you want to play hooky with me," Ryou offered.

"Play what now?" Melvin eyed Ryou. "Are you hitting on me?"

Ryou blushed. "No, I... Playing hooky means-"

"Can you get two extra tickets?" Bakura interrupted.

"Well I don't see why-" Ryou started.

"No, no, no!" Marik stood up. "You are not ditching me, Bakura. We are going to the party, and we are getting Yami drunk, and it's going to be super-friggin hilarious."

"If they don't have to go, I don't have to go." Bakura crossed his arms and closed his eyes.

"But if you don't go, the fangirls will be angry and the Christmas special will get bad ratings," Marik whined. "If you won't do it for me, at least do it for our future as a web series!"

"Arg, fine! But I won't enjoy it," Bakura huffed.

"That's the spirit!" Marik crowed.


	2. Chapter 2

"Florence," a voice whispered. "Flooooreeence..."

Bakura stirred in his sleep, finding himself unable to move properly. A slimey wetness on his ear made his eyes fly open. Upon seeing one of the last faces he wanted to see inches from his, he pulled the knife from under his pillow and rolled over. When his brain cleared he found himself on the floor straddling Melvin's waist and holding the knife to his throat.

"Oh, Florence..." Melvin tilted his head to press his cheek against the flat of the blade. "Don't be gentle."

Bakura growled. "Don't sneak up on me." He got up and sat on the edge of his bed. "You're lucky I didn't gut you."

Melvin sat up and propped his elbows on the edge of the bed. "You sleep far too heavily for a thief," he purred. "You're lucky I didn't smother you."

Bakura rubbed his temples. "I'm sure you didn't come in here to trade threats."

"I was thinking about the party," Melvin said. He stretched his arm out on the bed and laid his cheek on the mattress. "I want you to help me crash it."

"My hands are quite full enough with Marik's crazy schemes."

"Mmm, I think you'll like mine a lot more," Melvin sang.

"Fine. Talk fast." Bakura crossed his arms and leaned against the wall.

"We steal all the presents and replace them with really bad ones," Melvin grinned.

Bakura arched an eyebrow. "You're sounding a lot like Marik."

"No, listen." Melvin rolled into a kneeling position and fixed Bakura with a glittering gaze. "Bad ones. Rat traps. Razor blades. Stinging nettles. Contact poison. It'll be a blood bath! The whole Christmas special will have to be censored, denying Kaiba and the pharaoh their precious screentime. It will be glorious, Florence."

He reached into his pocket, and then shoved a crumpled piece of paper at Bakura's face. Bakura took it, trying to study it in the light from the window. It was mostly a bunch of crude crayon cartoons of murdered stick figures. The words 'Kovert Krampus' were scrawled across the top in red.

Melvin gripped the edge of the bed, chin pressed between his hands. Like a dog waiting for praise.

"What is this?" Bakura asked.

Melvin heaved a dramatic sigh, rolling his eyes, and hauled himself up to sit next to Bakura. "That," he pointed at a red, green, and yellow doodle, "is Susan eating rat poison cookies. That," he pointed at a red, purple, and yellow doodle, "is whore biscuit putting on acid lotion. That..." He continued pointing at doodles, explaining plans involving everything from exploding ornaments, to sweaters made of fiberglass, to stuffed animals full of poisonous spiders.

Bakura tapped the tip of the knife on his lip as he listened. When the excited stream of babble finally petered off, he said, "I'm not opposed to the idea _in_ _theory,_ but I do wonder where you think you're going to get a mustard gas candle. I'm pretty sure that's not even how mustard gas works."

"That's why your plans never go anywhere, Florence. You get too caught up on how stuff 'works.'"

Bakura scowled. "While we're at it, why all the complicated, expensive toys? Wouldn't one exploding anything be just as effective in getting the whole thing censored?"

"Oh, sure, 'while we're at it,' why don't I just run into the room brandishing a chainsaw like I always do? Maybe 'while I'm at it' I can cut that stick out of your ass."

Deciding to try a different direction, Bakura said, "How are you going to get everyone to open everything? As soon as one person gets bitten by spiders or sprayed with acid, the whole party is going to panic."

Melvin threw his head back and heaved a longer, even more dramatic sigh. "Says the guy whose plan took three _thousand_ years to come to fruition, to the guy whose plan only took, like, five. You have to spread your eggs _around_ , Florence, or the Christmas special will be half-over by the time anything explodes."

Bakura blinked at him. "You actually put some thought into this, didn't you?"

Melvin purred as a smirk glided onto his face.

"Fine, we'll get everyone a special present, but this, er, list needs some revising."


End file.
